


A Single Step

by Morgana



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 16:41:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Single Step

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nmeo621](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nmeo621).



_He's here._ Wesley's eyes snapped open, some primal instinct that has lain dormant in humans for millennia stirring and screaming at him, warning him of a predator close by. _He's here._ Why on earth hadn't he insisted on being moved to another room? Everything he knew about Angel had taught him that the vampire would come back to finish their business. It had been screamed through the hallways as Angel was dragged away, so there was no excuse for his carelessness. Had he thought himself safe, or was it worse than that? Had he actually wanted this?

The Englishman's hand inched across the blanket towards the call button, but Angel's calm voice floated out of the darkness, stopping him cold. "Touch the button and I'll break every bone in your hand." He sounded like he was commenting on the weather, but Wesley didn't doubt those quiet words. They were a warning, not a threat, and he nodded slowly, then brought his hand back to lie quietly in his lap. There was a soft chuckle from the shadows by the window. "That's better. We have some things that still need to be discussed, and I'd hate to be interrupted again, wouldn't you?"

He automatically opened his mouth to reply, then closed it and nodded instead. "That's right. You can't talk. Well, I guess you can listen, then."

"You know, I've had a lot of time to think in the last few days. I've thought about you, about me, about Connor, about us, trying over and over again to figure out if there was anything I could've done differently. Something I said or didn't say that I should've, or some way I could have changed your mind. And I've come to the realization that there isn't. Do you know why?"

Wesley stared at him, uncomprehending at first, and when the vampire repeated the question, he shook his head. "Because you didn't tell me. You didn't have the faith in me to be honest. Dammit, Wes! Don't you think I'd have given you Connor with all my blessings and bought you a fucking plane ticket to the farthest place I could before I'd have hurt either of you?"

Angel stepped out into the room and Wesley gasped soundlessly. The brunet seemed to have aged overnight, every second of his two hundred plus years showing on his haggard features. But it was the sight of his eyes that nearly did the Watcher in. The last time he'd seen those dark eyes they'd shone with warmth and trust, but now they were just... empty. Whatever used to be in there that made Angel, Angel, was missing. He looked like a man that had stared down into the abyss and not only had it looked back up into him, but it had rushed up and devoured him until all that was left was a shell.

"I didn't mind that much when you first asked to keep us secret. After all, it was new and we still didn't know if I could have a relationship without worrying about Angelus, so I understood. Besides, it was kinda nice, having you all to myself like that. But once we figured out where we stood, I thought you'd start letting the others know. Not all at once, maybe, more like little by little until they just got it. But you didn't. And then there was Darla and Connor, and I thought there was no way we could figure it out until -"

Angel choked up, but Wesley knew what he'd been going to say. _Until the ballet._ Until he'd seen what the denial of love had done to ruin a promising young ballerina's life. He swallowed hard, remembering how he had gone to Angel's room after everyone left. There had been no apology, no need for words then, only the overwhelming hunger for each other that had left him breathless. Tuxedoes had been shed with a dizzying swiftness and they'd tumbled back onto Angel's bed, kissing until he had to break for air. That night had been the start of something new, or so he'd thought, stronger and wilder than before, forged with breath and blood and come. He'd fallen asleep wrapped in Angel's arms, their bodies tangled together in the vampire's sheets, a new peace in his heart and a smile on his face. The next day, he'd gone looking for the prophecy.

"How long was it, Wes? How long did you lie to me? It had to be a while, I know that. Because things were good between us, real good. But then, it's easy to believe things are good when someone's lying. How much of it was the lie, anyway? How many kisses did you give me when you thought I was teetering on the brink of evil? How many nights did you sleep in my bed while you plotted to steal my son?" A hard note entered the low voice and Wesley wanted to cry out, to scream that none of it was a lie, but it wouldn't help now.

"I wanna know exactly how much of a fool I've been, you see. I wanna know how much of what we had was real - or if any of it was. I actually thought we'd be a family, you and me and Connor. Thought we'd raise him, give him all the love we could and watch him grow together. Naive, huh? I wanted to keep you both safe, protect you and maybe, with you there to help me, finally learn to stop running away from my past."

The vampire sat down on the side of the bed. He reached out, fingers ghosting over the bandages that wrapped Wesley's throat, the fabric a shocking swath of white against the suntanned darkness of the man's skin. Angel traced the edges of it, watching with a detached, dispassionate gaze. "But then, I'd never thought about not having Connor with me. I'd never imagined you getting your throat cut without me there to take care of you and kill whatever hurt you that badly. I believed in you, thought you trusted me and all along you were playing me for a fool. You didn't have faith in me or my love for either of you. You never even asked me, Wes! You just assumed that I'd have - God, how could you?"

The brunet stood up in a rush, the fleeting contact all but forgotten as he walked over to the window, keeping his face away from the man in the bed. "He was... so scared. He'd been quiet, but when the portal opened, he must've realized something was wrong, because he started - started screaming. And I couldn't save him. I couldn't get to him in time, and I lost my baby. Connor... Holtz took him, jumped into the hell dimension and _I couldn't do a goddamn thing to stop it!_ When he really needed me, when it was his fucking _life_ on the line, I failed him, and he's the one paying for my weakness."

Angel hadn't failed Connor. Wesley had. He'd failed them both, Wesley thought, his stomach twisting with a sickening lurch. He'd been so afraid of watching the man he loved hurt the baby they both adored that he'd let it cloud his judgement. Instead of turning to the one who wanted to be there for him, Wesley had listened to the lies of the serpent and given Angel's child into the worst torment he could imagine. Tears glittered in blue eyes before Wesley bowed his head, unable to continue to watch the vampire's agony from the silent prison of his own body any longer.

"And do you know one of the many, many things that really sucks about this? It's that I can't even hate the one who took him from me!" Angel's voice cracked, his composure sliding away but he forged onward, like the words were clawing their way out of him without consent or reason. "Everything you did, the lies that you told, the sneaking around behind my back, and I can't hate you. It's like I don't know how not to love you." Angel whirled around and Wesley glanced up to see tears fall in silver streaks down his friend's cheeks. The big man took two strides and dropped to his knees by the bed, reaching out suddenly enough to make Wesley flinch and press back into his pillows. "Tell me how to stop loving you, Wes. I can't, not after - Please, show me how to hate you!"

It was the sobbing cry of a broken man, and Wesley's heart ached for him. The hands that creased his crisp hospital sheets in their grip were the same ones that had torn at his clothing and clutched at him to keep him close while they both rode out their climaxes, the pleasure intense enough that Wesley thought he would black out. Those hands had soothed him after he woke, gasping and sweating, from a dream about the closet in his father's home. They had cradled Connor, tickled Cordelia until she shrieked and shed the blood of thousands. And now they reached for him, lying broken in this hospital bed, as if he had the power to somehow put them both back together.

Wesley stared down at his friend and former lover. An odd clarity stole over him and for perhaps the first time in his life, he saw his choices laid out before him. He could turn Angel away; he could press the call button and have his would-be murderer removed from the room. It would sound the death knell for anything between them, leave them without so much as a friendly feeling to share, and Wesley knew that if he did that, he would never again have this chance. Angel would walk away and leave him to whatever road life led him down without so much as a second's hesitation. It was cold, heartless and clean, a way to sever all ties and start anew, and for a heartbeat, he was tempted. The path Angel walked was a hard one and mortal men that attempted it usually regretted their choice.

It was the journey of champions, harsh and unforgiving. It would strip everything from him, demand his last vestiges of strength and tax his mind to the point of insanity before he was through. And in the end, it would claim his life. But it offered the ability to make a change in the world, however small, the knowledge that he would serve a greater power than himself with both life and death, and the companionship of a brother in arms who was fully his match in every way. And it waited for him - for any who wished to start along it, really. Those strong enough to stand the trials that lay ahead were the acclaimed champions, the ones who would live for all time in legend and song, and Wesley knew that Angel was one of them.

He just didn't know if he was. Could he bear the weight that would be laid on him? They had so far to go, such a huge distance between them and he had no idea of how to begin to close it. He wanted so badly to take it all back, to make it all right again. A long-ago professor's favorite saying came to mind: _The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step._ Wesley took a gasping breath and reached out, hand closing lightly on -

A shrill scream jerked him awake. Wesley sat bolt upright, his body sheened with a cold sweat. He didn't hear the mumbled, "I'll get him," or feel the bed shift next to him, his mind too consumed with what he'd just - dreamed? No, it had been so much more than that. He lifted his hand to his throat, fingers seeking the stiff scratchy bandage that had been wrapped around him, or the raised scar that should've been there but wasn't. What was going on?

The bed dipped and he looked over to see - "Angel?"

"Yeah. Were you expecting someone else?" When he didn't respond, Angel gave him a puzzled look. Shifting the bundle in his arms, he asked, "Are you okay, Wes? Sounded like you were having a pretty bad dream there."

The Englishman didn't say anything, his eyes riveted to the blankets Angel carried. Reaching out, he brushed them back, inhaling sharply at the sight of the downy head. "Connor."

"Yeeeaah." It was clear from his tone that Angel believed his lover had gone insane.

Wesley tentatively brushed his hand over the fine thatch of silky hair. He took a shaky breath, still able to feel the gash in his throat where a blade had parted his skin and spilled his blood. Something had happened, but right now wasn't the time to question whatever miracle he'd just been given. "Angel, there's something I need to tell you. I - I'm afraid I haven't been completely honest with you..."


End file.
